


Allegory of Love

by Malfoysdarkness



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Cherik - Freeform, Erik Has Feelings, Fluff, Genoshan Husbands, M/M, No Spoilers, Soft Erik Lehnsherr, after Dark Phoenix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malfoysdarkness/pseuds/Malfoysdarkness
Summary: Living on Genosha with Erik, Charles noticed his powers more and more. He fell deeper in love each time he watched. When watching him one warm evening, Charles decided to delve a little deeper into Erik's domestic life, and how it had come to be.





	Allegory of Love

Charles loved to watch Erik work. Domestic work, be it tidying the house, cooking or mending things. He did it with ease, barely even thinking about it. Charles envied him, as his own gift took a great deal of thought. Charles watched as Erik chopped onions, stirred soup and sliced bread without once looking up from his book. 

Charles had always been a little jealous of Erik's power. A metalkinetic, able to manipulate and control each metal substance with a simple wave of his hand, or the raise of an eyebrow. Now, having unlocked the full power of his gift, Erik didn't need to concentrate fully to do mundane tasks. Charles never seemed to be able to take his eyes off Erik when he did things like that. It was so casual, so startlingly casual, Charles always forgot Erik had done this on Genosha for ten years. 

Despite all Charles' thoughts about Erik (an extensive range, to his embarrassment) he could never imagine Erik in the kitchen. Cooking was an extremely  _ human  _ trait, one Charles deemed  _ too _ human for Erik. He was incredibly wrong. On his first night on Genosha, wheeling into Erik's modified ship-house, Charles was startled to find Erik at the stove, humming to himself as he created some wonderful dish or another. Charles had stopped dead in the doorway, astonished. At his silence, Erik turned his head. 

"Close the door," He'd said. "You're letting all the warm out." 

Blinking, Charles had done so, pushing his wheelchair forward into the room. Since before his arrival, Erik had set up the house to suit Charles perfectly. Each counter was low, almost painfully low for Erik, who had not, to this day, complained about it. The bed was the perfect height for transferring into his wheelchair, and the only shelves too high for Charles to reach were the ones holding Erik's old helmet and his small collection of German books. 

"You… Cook?" Charles had said bluntly. Erik had just smiled. A previously rare smile, but becoming more frequent, since Charles had agreed to live on Genosha with him. 

"I've been a family man, Charles. I know how to do even the most domestic of things." 

Since that day, Charles had let Erik cook each night, looking forward eagerly to the next morning. Erik cooked extremely well and it easily beat Charles' triangular sandwiches from lunchtime. Charles had noticed something else too. While Erik worked, he sang. Be it a small hum, or a soft murmured song. But he sang. 

"Is that a lullaby?" Charles dared to ask one afternoon, while he sat outside. He had been pretending to read, while instead looking over at his book at Erik, who was bending over, fixing a motorbike. Erik paused, his hands stilling on the vehicle. Realising he had made a mistake, Charles shifted in his chair, straightening up. The action made him wince at the crack in his bones.  _ Not so young anymore _ , he told himself. 

"I'm sorry, Erik. I didn't mean to pry." 

Erik shook his head, seeming to find himself again. 

"You didn't pry, Charles. You didn't look into my mind."

Charles let him continue his work, the soft clicks of the metal helping soothe Charles' head even more, adding to the warm sun beating down on them. Erik wasn't wearing sun protection, but his hat sat low over his head, keeping the back of his neck safe from the heat. After a few moments, Erik elaborated on his story. 

"It is a song I learnt from my parents, and used to sing to Nina." 

Charles heard the crack in his voice and gently set his book down on the table beside his chair. Leaning forward, Charles reached out and rested his hand on Erik's shoulder. The muscles beneath his fingers were ropey and tense, but Charles knew Erik hated being touched without his permission. Not like that, anyway. 

"Sing it to me?" Charles murmured back, letting his fingers brush the fabric shoulder of his shirt, before slowly pulling away. Erik, shaking his head, pulled himself up and walked a few steps away. Charles knew better than to press him, so didn't say a word. 

" _ Odpocznij moje dziecko,"  _ Erik began, voice only just above a whisper. Charles didn't know Polish, but he could feel the emotion in Erik's voice. 

" _ Dzień się skończył, Słońce zaświeci, Gdy przyjdzie poranek,"  _ Erik's voice broke once more, but he pushed through his past pain. His eyes were closed and his head bowed, and Charles could see his eyelashes wet with tears. 

" _ Ale teraz jest ciemno i świat jest spokojny, Więc daj odpocząć oczom swym i zaśnij _ ." 

When the lullaby ended and Erik's voice faded away, Charles moved. Rolling his wheelchair across the short grass, he went closer to Erik, who was leaning against one side of the house. Charles could see Erik's fingers, brushing over the locket around his neck. Erik had told him one night, that he had given it to Nina when she was little, and since her death he'd never taken it off. 

"You have a beautiful voice, Erik. I wish you'd sing more often." 

Erik laughed, a little bitterly, Charles noticed. He wiped his eyes on his hand and turned to face him. 

"I don't know any other songs." 

Charles smiled, albeit a little sadly. 

"I happen to know just a few. Would you like me to sing them?" 

Erik didn't hesitate. He nodded, shifting to sit down on the grass in front of Charles. He even crossed his legs. Charles, biting his lip to hide his smile, leant back in his chair. He tried to ignore how much Erik looked like an expectant puppy, all bright eyes and hopeful. 

"Now, I am not a singer," Charles warned. Erik shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. 

"Just sing, Charles." 

Charles nodded before he began, just as soft and as gentle as Erik had. 

" _ Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?"  _

It only took Erik a moment to recognise the song. Genosha had a radio, and he had clearly heard it before on one station or another. Grinning, Erik leant back on his hands, encouraging Charles to continue. 

" _ Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white night upon a fiery steed?"  _

Charles' eyes glinted. He was enjoying himself more than he cared to admit. A good sing-along had only happened once at the school. Organised by Peter and Ororo, the old ballroom had been converted into a party hall, even with a working disco ball. Charles had no idea how they had found it, but he couldn't deprive the children of the night off. Even  _ he _ had given in around midnight, letting Jean spin his wheelchair around the centre of the dance floor. 

" _ Late at night I toss and I turn, and I dream of what I need…"  _

Leaning forward, Charles cupped Erik's face, touching the warm, worn skin under his fingers. The face he knew so well. The face he had traced and mapped so many times since arriving in Genosha. He knew that face more than any other's. 

" _ I need a hero,"  _ pushing the word out past his lips, Charles met Erik's gaze head on, his thumb brushing over Erik's lips. They were slightly parted now and Charles' thumb just dipped between them, before drawing away. 

"I'm not a hero, Charles. I am the opposite," Erik murmured, once he'd pulled himself from his reverie. 

"You're a misunderstood hero." 

Erik chuckled, meeting Charles' gaze for a moment before looking away. "Misunderstood. Yes. That's me." 

Charles smiled, still touching Erik's cheek. 

"What else should I call you? Stubborn? A pain-in-the-arse?" 

Erik tilted his head into Charles' touch like a cat, eyes half closing. 

"But I'm  _ your _ pain-in-the-arse." 

Charles laughed. 

"Yes, you are certainly that." 

Instead of an answer, Erik brought up a hand and several spare parts of the motorbike rose up into the air. They melted together like wax and twisted into an elegant shape. Charles couldn't keep the smile off his face when he saw what it was. 

Plucking it from the air, Erik set the object in Charles' hands and the telepath held it up. 

"Is this your way of telling me something?" Charles teased, nudging Erik's hip with his foot. Shaking his head, Erik pointed to the tangled letters 'E' and 'C', which were looped together, forming a wonky but abstract heart. The metal was heavy and cold in Charles' hands, but he loved it more than anything. 

"I know you love me showing off my powers," Erik said with a shrug, but the corners of his mouth were threatening to pull up into a smile. 

"I know I love you," Charles corrected. There had been some kind of mutual agreement on how they felt about each other, but this was the first time either of them had spoke of it. Charles thought Erik had frozen for a moment, and feared that he had accidentally paused Erik in time, but he could see Erik's chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. 

"I know I love you too," Erik's voice was almost a little hoarse, but it was earnest, and real, and so very Erik. Charles, looking down at the metal heart, smiled. 

"Who knew, all we needed was a few lines of Bonnie Tyler to properly bring us to admit our feelings." 

Already choked up, Erik laughed, but it came out as more of a sob. It was rare that Erik ever let himself cry in front of Charles, but this time, Charles welcomed it. Pulling Erik closer, Charles tucked his face into the warm spot between Erik's neck and his shoulder. Erik smelt of motor oil, cinnamon and metal, but somehow that made Charles breathe in deeper, his arms tightening. 

Erik stumbled forward when he was pulled, but found himself easily relaxing into Charles' arms. Even a year ago, that kind of physical affection, even something as simple as a hug, would be difficult for Erik to carry out. Now, he accepted it, he loved it. He loved Charles. God almighty,  _ he loved Charles.  _ He loved him. 

"I love you," Erik whispered again, the full force of the words hitting him. He shut his eyes and let himself relax into the feeling of Charles. He felt Charles smile against his skin, his fingers tightly wound into the fabric of Erik's shirt. 

"I love you too." 


End file.
